Pretense
by SLynn
Summary: A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life.  Set late Season 5.  Greg/OFC with shades of Greg/Sara
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Pretense  
Author: SLynn  
Rating: T  
Pairing: **Greg/OFC shades of Greg/Sara**  
Spoilers: **Up to '4X4'/Season 5  
**Disclaimer: **Does anyone actually read this?

**Summary: **A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life. Set late Season 5.

**Notes:** I can't believe I'm doing this. At this point I figure the only way I'll ever finish another CSI fic is to just plow through one, and while I don't have a lot of this written, I've got enough where a little encouragement might go a long way. I can't promise frequent updates, I can only promise to try and finish this one. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1**

"I swear it. I swear. That's... that's not me. It's not."

Greg shut his eyes briefly, suppressing a yawn, and shook his head in what was becoming a well practiced motion. Mentally cursing, he wondered how long this charade would last.

"I was nowhere near that store."

"So you're saying what?" Greg asked, pointing again to the pictures that lay on the table between them. "This isn't you?"

"No. No, it's not."

"Okay," Greg sighed, his eyes flitting briefly to the clock hung behind their suspect. He'd been awake way too long to be dealing with this now. "Suppose for a moment, I believe you."

"It's true."

"Okay, suppose it is true. This isn't you," Greg continued, trying his best not to be overly confrontational, or cocky, as both Sara and Sofia had repeatedly warned him against. "That means that somewhere in Vegas there is another man that is your height, approximately your weight, with your build, hair and eye color."

"Hey," the man said as he leaned back in his seat, "I'm just an average guy."

"Aren't we all?" Greg muttered as he dragged out all the photos, pointing to each for emphasis as he continued. "He's got the same tattoo across his chest. He's got the exact same shoes you're wearing right now, in the same size. He drives the same make and model car as you. And, he happened to make off with ten of the exact same MP3 players that you just so happened to have recently acquired from a friend who has mysteriously, and conveniently, left town."

"It's not me," the man persisted looking more relaxed than Greg felt.

"We're running the serial numbers on those stolen players. They're going to match. We're also running your DNA sample against the blood we found at the scene on the smashed cases. And don't think that wearing long sleeves means we didn't see the cuts on your arms. We did. We've got fingerprints. Shoe impressions. Tire impressions. Eyewitnesses. It's even on video. So, unless you have a twin brother you haven't told us about, and I did check, so I know you don't, we've got you."

"I want a lawyer."

Greg nodded briskly and swiftly gathered his collection of photos into a pile to take with him, before standing to go without another word said.

Outside the door, as he'd expected, Sofia and Brass were waiting.

"You did your best," was all Brass said, before hustling past him into the holding room.

"Why does the way he says that make it sound like an insult?" Greg asked Sofia, who smiled in return.

"You got cocky again."

"I know."

"Don't worry about it," Sofia assured him. "You were right. You've got this guy."

"My luck he probably does have a twin. I lied. I didn't check."

"It's really unlikely he does," Sofia said consolingly, as they headed back towards the lab together.

"But, seriously, what does it take? I have mountains of evidence on this case, which when you consider the severity of the crime, is itself nearly criminal. Think of all the time I've wasted just to prove this guy's guilt; all the taxpayer money that is going for what is just legally past the petty theft stature..."

"So they weren't even good MP3 players?" Sofia momentarily interrupted.

"No. He took the generics when there was a stack of iPods right there. But that's not the point."

"Well, good. I was beginning to think you didn't have one."

"My point," Greg said, without missing a beat, "is that he's so obviously guilty and yet... why wouldn't he just admit it? I had him. I had him."

Sofia laughed as Greg pulled open the break room door and dropped his photos onto the nearest table in defeat.

"Brass will probably spend two minutes with him and he'll be singing like a canary."

Sofia continued to chuckle under her breath as she poured them both a much needed cup of coffee.

"Singing like a canary? Really?"

"It's an expression."

"From about fifty years back. But, I know. I do know what you mean," Sofia finally admitted as they sat down. "You're being too hard on yourself. Greg, they never confess."

Greg stopped and looked at her with clear disbelief.

"They don't," she persisted.

"They do, just not to me."

"You're extra impossible today, aren't you?"

"I've been awake now longer than I can remember, so yes. Yes, I am."

"Well, at least you're off tonight," Sofia said with a smile. "Go home. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow and we'll do it all again."

"I can't wait," Greg answered with mock enthusiasm as his cell phone rang.

Checking the number, he quickly switched the ringer off, before stowing it away again and looking back to Sofia.

"Wrong number?" she asked archly.

"I'll call back later," he said through a yawn.

"What if it's important?"

"Did I miss something?" said Sara as she walked into the break room, having caught only the last part of Sofia and Greg's conversation.

"No," Greg returned. "Oh, unless you wanted to watch me fail miserably at interrogation, you did miss that."

"Oh," Sara said, a smile just forming on her lips, "well, I've seen that before."

"Thanks," Greg said, smiling back at her as she sat down next to him at the table.

"Well," Sofia said, getting to her feet and dumping the remains of her coffee into the sink. "I'd love to stay and chat, but not all of us have the night off."

"Not all of us worked all day, either," said Greg.

"Yeah, yeah," Sofia laughed, as she made her way to the door. "You should return that call. Soon."

Greg shook his head with a smirk before calling out, "Goodnight, Sofia."

Sara nodded at the other woman as she retreated out of the room, watching her for a moment before returning her attention back to Greg. He'd taken his phone out again and was evidentially deciding on whether or not to act on Sofia's advice.

"Who called?" she asked after a long pause

"What?" Greg said, looking up at her, clearly lost.

"The call Sofia mentioned? I take it that it was something important?"

"Oh," said Greg, shaking his head as he got to his feet and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "No one. Sofia's just..."

Greg trailed off with a shrug, giving off every indication that it wasn't something he was going to discuss.

"It's not important," he finished, only briefly meeting her eyes. "Man, it feels later than eleven, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed, trying to shake off the awkwardness that had suddenly cropped up between them. "It does, I guess."

For another long moment, neither of them spoke.

"Well," Greg said, slapping his hands together as he rocked on his heels, "I'm going to go now. Home. So..."

"You're not going out?" Sara asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought you always had plans on your nights off."

"I might," Greg laughed, "but I don't even remember what day it is, so I can't say for certain."

"It's Friday," Sara answered with a laugh of her own.

"Friday," Greg repeated, his grin turning to a grimace as he took out his phone again and checked the screen. "Friday. Well, that's just great."

Greg trailed off before he scrubbed his hand over his face furiously, putting his phone away for a third time, and gathering up his case file from the table.

"I've really got to go," Greg said with a shake of his head as he quickly made an exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

"Don't forget we're on call tomorrow."

"I won't," Greg called back without looking, practically racing away.

Greg had honestly thought his night couldn't get any worse, until now. This was worse. This was worse than worse. This was going to ruin not only what was left of the night, but possibly all of tomorrow and the next day as well. If he was lucky.

Waiting for the little privacy his car offered, Greg sat in the driver's seat and let out a deep breath as he dialed a number quickly on his cell phone and waited, unsurprised as it went straight to voice mail.

"Listen," he said right after the beep, "I am so, so, very sorry. I don't have any excuse that's good enough and... and... if there is any way-"

Greg stopped mid-ramble as his phone beeped, indicating an incoming call.

"Kristen?"

"You know you're a jerk, right?"

"I am," he agreed, shutting his eyes as he let his head fall back against the seat. "I know. I should have called."

"No, you should have been here three hours ago like you promised. We had plans."

"I'm sorry. I really... I got caught up at work and..."

"Greg," she sighed, cutting in, "you always say that."

Greg tried to think of a rebuttal, but there was no truthful one, so instead, an awkward moment of silence dragged out between them.

"I know how important your job is to you," Kristen finally said. "And that you're not doing this on purpose. I just wish every once in awhile I was what was important to you."

"You are," Greg said quickly. "Please, just... let me come by and we'll talk... or we can still go out if you want? It's Vegas; everything is open."

"No," she said, her voice getting quiet. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? I can be at your place in twenty minutes."

"Because the last time this happened, and we went out anyway, you fell asleep at the movies."

"I really am a jerk."

"You're not," she relented and he could just sense the smile behind her words. "You're just tired and overworked and have a ridiculously demanding girlfriend."

"Yes," he laughed. "How awful of you to expect me to show up for our dates. Oh, and to want to spend time with me, way too demanding."

Kristen laughed along with him and Greg felt the tension begin to leave his body.

"So," he dragged out, "I am sorry. And, I promise, I'm going to make this up to you. Am I off the hook?"

"You really think you're getting off that easy?"

"I was hoping..."

"No, no," she laughed. "No way."

"Okay," he sighed, fighting back another yawn. "Can I at least be off the hook for tonight? Can I come by and see you?"

"I don't know..."

"I could bring you dinner," he suggested.

"It's nearly midnight," she laughed. "I ate hours ago."

"Dessert?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "Just go home. Get some sleep. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"You sure?"

"Yes," she answered. "Have a safe ride home."

"I will."

"No, you won't," she said, laughing again. "That's why I remind you."

"I'll try to then," he said. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Goodnight, Greg."

"Goodnight," he said, shutting off his phone after Kristen hung up on her end.

Shaking his head, and pausing only a moment longer, Greg went to start the engine, when a loud noise made him jump and look up.

"What are you still doing here?" Nick asked, having slapped his hand, hard, on the roof of Greg's car.

"I had to make a call first," Greg answered, not bothering to get out of the car, opting instead to just roll down the window.

"Checking in?"

"More like apologizing," Greg admitted. "I forgot we had a date tonight and..."

"You stood up Kristen?"

"Accidentally."

"Good job."

"I know," Greg said, somewhat impatiently. "Why wasn't I warned that being in the field meant I would no longer have a life outside of this lab? Or at least one I would remember, because I get here and it's like some kind of space-time thingy where I forget everything else exists."

"You were warned," Nick laughed. "You just didn't pay attention."

"That's probably true."

"Well," Nick said, standing up straighter and beginning to back away, "I won't keep you. Go make it up to her."

"Thanks," Greg said with a nod as he rolled the window back up, waved, and started up his car.

The drive home only took fifteen minutes. At this time of night, the majority of the traffic was on the Strip, not on the interstate. Pulling into his apartment complex, and completing his night, Greg found that his neighbor had, again, parked in his designated spot.

Stopping to write as angry of a note as a three-by-three sized Post-it would allow, Greg spent another ten minutes looking for and procuring a parking space, and ended up not getting inside until just after midnight.

Just as he'd changed out of his work clothes and had begun to rummage through his refrigerator for something edible, there was a knock at the door.

"I brought you dinner," Kristen said as he'd opened the door.

"You really are the best girlfriend ever," Greg said as he took the package from her and set it aside, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "I love you."

"Don't think this means I'm not mad," she warned. "I am. I just know your eating habits and figured if I didn't bring you something, you'd be forced to have ice cream for dinner or something worse. But I'm still mad. Very, very mad. I can be mad and still care."

"That's why I love you," Greg continued with a smile.

"I love you, too," Kristen returned, leaning up to kiss him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Pretense  
Author: SLynn  
Rating: T**  
**Pairing**: Greg/OFC shades of Greg/Sara  
**Spoilers**: Up to '4X4'/Season 5  
**Disclaimer:** Does anyone actually read this?

**Summary:** A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life. Set late Season 5.

**Notes:** Thanks for the reviews! Thank you, Tripp3235, for beta'ing this thing for a very long time now! Also, I've decided that I'll post a new chapter whenever I get a new one written. I've got several stockpiled right now, and it might still be erratic, but I am moving forward. I can't believe it's been four years since I've finished anything for this fandom. That just doesn't seem possible. But, enough rambling. On with the story. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

He'd really left her no other alternative.

Sara had called and called Greg's cell phone repeatedly, but he just wasn't answering it. It was almost enough to have her worried, if she hadn't been reasonably certain that he hadn't just turn the damn thing off. Which, he probably had, given how long of a shift he'd just finished working.

All she could do now was trust he was rested and remind him, again, that when he was on call he had to be reachable.

As Sara climbed the steps to Greg's second story apartment, she hoped he was awake. It was just after noon and he should be up by now. She'd spotted his car in the parking lot, so at least he was home. Maybe they could even grab a bite to eat together on the way to the scene.

On her second knock, the door swung open and Sara was surprised to find not Greg, but a woman standing there, staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Sara managed, albeit awkwardly, as she took off her sunglasses.

"Hello."

"Is Greg home?"

"He's busy right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well," Sara said, "I don't think so... um, not unless you can help me process a scene."

"Oh," the other woman said, her eyes lighting up in understanding. "You must work with Greg. Sorry, I thought you were one of the neighbors or something. We get a lot of solicitors. Come in. Greg's probably done in the shower by now."

"Great," Sara said, forcing herself to smile as she stepped into the apartment just far enough to allow the door room to close behind her. "I'm Sara."

"Sara," the woman repeated, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. "Nice to finally meet you. I'm Kristen. Greg's told me all about you."

"Really?" Sara asked, clearly surprised.

"You're like his mentor, aren't you?"

"I guess you could say that. Um, sure. If that's what Greg says."

Kristen stared at her for a moment, as if waiting for Sara to continue. Probably expecting Sara to say something in return, about how much Greg talks about her, but Sara said nothing. She wasn't about to lie. She hadn't even known this woman existed until now.

"I'll just go see if he's ready," Kristen said as she headed towards the back of the apartment. "Make yourself at home."

"Sure," Sara said, looking slowly around the room before deciding against taking a seat.

Instead she walked over to Greg's bookshelf, not to snoop, but merely to distract herself from thinking too hard about how strange this situation felt.

Absentmindedly, she picked up the nearest photograph from which Greg and Kristen stared happily back up at her. Greg looked the same as he always did. Kristen, well, Sara could see why he was with her, she was an attractive woman, petite, blond and in great shape. She looked like she could have been a cheerleader and probably had been one not too long ago. Pretty much exactly what Sara had always assumed would be Greg's type, yet for some reason, that didn't sit well with her.

"Sara," Greg's familiar voice called her back to her senses. "What's going on?"

"We've got a call," she stated, as plainly as she could. Forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"Okay," he said, with a laugh that sounded a bit nervous, "so, why didn't you call me? Not... not that you're not welcome to come over, it's just..."

"I did call," Sara interrupted. "I called four times."

Greg's expression changed from nervous to confused, as he crossed over to his desk where he kept his phone.

"That's really my fault," Kristen said, stepping further into the room. "I turned it off this morning. I'm sorry, Greg. You were supposed to have today off and I thought it would be nice if we could go an entire day without that thing ringing every five minutes."

"I thought I told you I was on call," Greg said, not looking up from his phone as he switched it back on and checked his call log.

"You're always on call."

"We're short staffed, Kristen," Greg returned, his voice not registering any anger, but his eyes were telling a different story.

Greg's eyes momentarily darted in Sara's direction. She shifted nervously, looking down at her shoes in order to avoid his gaze.

"Well, then they need to hire more people because they work you too hard," said Kristen.

"It's not just that. I need all the time I can get in the field. I need this experience, and - "

"I'm going to go wait in the car," Sara interrupted, anxious to avoid witnessing any more of their conversation. "Nice meeting you, Kristen."

"You, too," the other woman called half-heartedly after her retreating form.

Fifteen minutes later Sara watched from her car as Greg and Kristen exited the apartment. Kristen set off immediately, not waiting for Greg who had lagged behind to lock up, her shoulders set and her posture rigid, as she marched off towards the parking lot. A few running steps was all it took for Greg to catch her, but by the way Sara observed Kristen avoiding Greg, it was easy to see that the fight they'd begun inside had not yet been finished.

Sara continued to watch as Kristen stopped at what must be her car and unlocked the door to get inside. Greg was talking now, moving animatedly, in a way Sara recognized that he always did when either angry or upset. Kristen turned and faced him, leaning back against the door she had been in the process of opening, and hearing Greg out with something like a pout on her face.

Just when Sara thought things would only escalate in their fight, certain Greg would turn and leave quickly, Kristen inexplicably smiled, and then laughed, and then Greg was smiling too. As Greg moved his hands to Kristen's shoulders, and the two of them leaned in towards one another, Sara abruptly turned away, recalling that this wasn't some suspect she was watching on stakeout, but her co-worker, her friend, with his girlfriend, outside of his home.

A few minutes later Greg slid into the passenger's seat of Sara's car.

"So," Greg said, drawing the word out. "Where's our scene?"

"Near Primm."

"Do you know anything about it?"

"No, not really."

Greg nodded sheepishly as he began to fidget and look out his window. After a few minutes more, he began to relax and grew less restless, even going so far as to switch on the radio.

"You don't have to volunteer," Sara said just as they got onto the interstate.

Greg turned and looked at her, clearly confused.

"To be on call," Sara clarified. "You don't have to volunteer to do it. It's not mandatory."

"You do."

Sara nodded, eyes fixed on the road, and decided to leave it at that, but found she couldn't.

"She doesn't know you volunteer, does she? She just thinks it's part of your job."

"It is part of my job," Greg said defensively.

"Greg..."

"No," he interrupted. "I know I haven't always been serious about everything I do, but this isn't one of those times. I want to do this and I want to be good at it. As good as I can be, and if that means..."

Greg trailed off, either uncertain what it did mean, or unwilling to say it.

"Besides, Kristen understands that," Greg continued.

Sara locked eyes with him briefly, clearly not believing that, especially given what she'd just witnessed firsthand.

"She does," said Greg defensively.

They drove several more miles in silence before Sara finally had to say something.

"You are good."

Greg lifted up his eyes, but said nothing.

"At this," Sara elaborated. "Really good. If you weren't, you wouldn't be here."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sara said, and then smiling added. "You know, like the way you never mentioned your girlfriend."

"Ah," Greg said, finally smiling genuinely. "I thought that might just slip past you."

"Nothing slips past me."

Greg tried to laugh it off, despite his embarrassment, but Sara wasn't about to let it go.

"So, Kristen..." she led off with, waiting for Greg to continue.

"Is her name, yes," he added, unhelpfully.

"And?"

"And, what?"

Sara waited, knowing the silence would eventually get to him.

"What?" Greg asked, finally caving. "I don't know what you want to know."

"Well I'd like to know why I've never heard of her before."

"I... I don't know," Greg stammered. "It never really came up."

"Oh," said Sara, relaxing into her seat. "So you haven't been together long."

"No, it's been about six months now."

"Six months?" Sara returned, shocked. "It hasn't come up once in six months? That... that can't be right."

Greg didn't say anything, just continued to shift in his seat. For awhile, Sara decided to just drop it, but found she couldn't.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Greg said, avoiding even looking her direction. "I guess I thought you wouldn't care. It's not like you talk about your personal life. I just assumed..."

"Greg, I don't have a personal life. My job is my personal life."

"Come on, Sara..."

"And I do care... I care about what's happening with you and... you know..."

"That was convincing," Greg laughed.

"You know what I mean," Sara snapped. "I... I thought we were friends."

"We are," Greg said earnestly. "I didn't... I really just didn't think you'd want to know. At first, it wasn't important. Kristen and I were just going out and after awhile, you know how it goes. You kind of wake up one morning and realize you're in a relationship..."

"So it's serious?"

"Yes," Greg laughed again. "I guess so."

"Are you two living together?"

"No," Greg said quickly, shaking his head. "That's... no. First of all, my mom would come unglued."

"Your mom? Greg, you're an adult. Your parents can't tell you what to do any more."

"Spoken like a woman who has never met my mother."

"Wow," Sara said, as they pulled up onto the scene. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out..."

"I know. I'm multi-faceted."

"That's one way of putting it," Sara laughed, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine.

As she moved to exit the vehicle, Greg suddenly stopped her by gently grabbing hold of her wrist.

"Seriously," he said, leaning towards her as he spoke. "I didn't mean for this to be a thing."

"It's fine, Greg," Sara said.

"We're fine? Still friends?" he asked, smiling, but sincere.

"Of course," Sara said, looking down and trying to fight down the blush that was creeping up her neck. "We're fine. We're friends. Of course we're friends."

Greg smiled as he nodded in agreement, squeezing her arm once before letting go and getting out of the car in order to begin processing their scene. Sara followed suit, eager to prove that none of this was affecting her in any way, shape or form.

"Sidle?" the trooper at the scene automatically asked Greg; they always did. They always assumed since she was a woman she couldn't possibly be the lead investigator. Always. And it never failed to tick Sara off.

Greg just smiled and pointed first to the name tape on his vest and then to Sara.

"Sorry," the other man said half-heartedly. "I've been waiting over an hour."

"What have you got?" she asked, refusing to apologize in return.

"Saw this car on my morning patrol, noted it, passed it again later and stopped to check it out. The door was open and there was blood so I called it in and they called you guys."

"That's it?" Sara asked.

"All of it," he returned. "Now if you excuse me, I'm off in half an hour."

Greg and Sara watched the man retreat back to his car.

"That was concise," Greg said in a near laugh.

"He must not make overtime," Sara returned, as she walked over to the car.

Like the trooper said, the door to the sedan was ajar. There was a large stain of what appeared to be dried blood on the seat and floorboard of the passenger's seat.

"Oh, man," Greg said as he joined her, holding a hand up to cover his mouth from the stench. "That's a lot of blood. Should we call Dave?"

"For what?" Sara asked. "There's blood, but I don't see a body."

"Trunk?"

Sara nodded. Before opening the driver's side door to pop the trunk, she pulled on a glove.

"Anything?" she called back to him.

"Empty," he said, slamming it shut. "Now what?"

"Well," Sara said, looking hard at the stain that could be years old for all they knew, but she felt otherwise. It seemed almost as if someone had already tried cleaning it up. "Something bad happened here."

"Um, Sara?"

"Yeah," she said, popping her head back out of the car as she stood up straight to look his way.

"That's not... Tell me that's not what I think it is," Greg said with a grimace, pointing to the backseat from his position behind the car.

Sara moved quickly to peer through the side window, her expression darkening along with Greg's as she saw the empty baby seat still secured and in place.

"Doesn't mean anything, yet," Sara said.

"Let's hope it doesn't mean anything at all."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Pretense  
Author: SLynn  
Rating: T**  
**Pairing**: Greg/OFC shades of Greg/Sara  
**Spoilers**: Up to '4X4'/Season 5  
**Disclaimer:** Does anyone actually read this?

**Summary:** A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life. Set late Season 5.

**Notes: **Thank you, Tripp3235, for beta'ing this thing for the past thousand years. And for still watching CSI with me and encouraging me to keep writing about it. Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

"Instead of focusing on what we don't have, lets focus on what we do," Grissom tried.

"But the thing we don't have is a body," Greg argued, rubbing his temples with his fingers and shutting his eyes tightly in frustration.

After five hours on scene, and another three at the lab, Sara and Greg had gotten nowhere on their case. They'd just gone over the whole thing, again, with Grissom. Not that it mattered. At this point, either a body would turn up or it wouldn't. There wasn't much else they could do about it but wait and see.

"Are you certain there is one?" Grissom asked.

Greg and Sara exchanged a quick look, but they were both in agreement. Even though the blood had been dried by the time they'd arrived, they were still fairly certain that whatever had happened, had happened recently and been hastily cleaned up. All it took was a good hot day, and Vegas had plenty of those, to do the rest.

"There was a lot of blood," Sara finally stated. "Without medical attention, a person can only lose about four pints worth, and there was at least that much in the car."

"Gallons," Greg added, earning a reproving look from the other two.

"It wasn't gallons," Sara corrected.

"Gallons might be an exaggeration," Greg conceded, knowing the neither Sara nor Grissom liked to hear anything that wasn't factual where cases were concerned, "but it was a lot."

"And you ran the plate? The registration?"

"We tried," Sara answered, "but the whole system is down. Won't be back up again until Monday."

"Monday?" Grissom repeated in disbelief looking at each of them in turn.

"It's the DMV," Greg said. "We tried explaining the situation and they just don't care."

"Okay, what about fingerprints?"

Greg rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and pressing his lips together tightly.

"Still waiting," Sara offered, pushing Greg's chair back down onto all four legs.

"And waiting, and waiting..."

"Is there a problem?" Grissom asked, quite seriously.

"Only in his head," Sara answered. "He thinks Mandy slow rolls his requests because she doesn't like him."

"No," Greg corrected. "She's slow rolling my requests because she may have misinterpreted a comment I may have made and is a little angry with me right now."

"What did she misinterpret?" Grissom asked.

Greg looked to Sara for support, but quickly realized none was forthcoming.

With a sigh, he began. "Mandy may have gotten the impression that I don't think her work is as detailed as Jacqui's."

"How did she get that impression?" Grissom asked.

Again, Greg looked briefly to Sara, who simply waved her hand for him to continue.

"Because I told her that I don't think her work is as detailed as Jacqui's."

"Greg," Grissom sighed, going no further.

"It was constructive criticism," he shrugged. "And she's going to have to get used to it, especially around here. No one is exactly shy about calling you out on your shortcomings."

"It wasn't constructive," Sara argued.

"I only suggested she might want to ask Jacqui for some pointers," Greg said, still determined on being right. "She's lucky to have someone with so much experience around. My predecessor in the DNA lab wasn't even current on blood typing when I got here."

"I still don't understand why you think she's purposely not processing your evidence," Grissom interjected.

"Because, she's mad at me so my stuff is automatically put on the bottom of the pile. That's just how it works. All the techs do it. It's also why I wanted Sara to hand in the evidence."

"I went in with you."

"But you made me do the talking," Greg returned.

"Here's some constructive criticism, Greg. Don't make the techs mad."

"Did you ever slow roll my evidence?" Grissom asked, ignoring the argument happening before him.

"No," Greg said, shaking his head.

"What about mine?" Sara asked.

"Three of four times."

"Oh."

"A night."

Sara only stared at him, as Grissom shook his head and got to his feet.

"Take a break," he said as he made his way to the door. "Both of you. A long one."

After the door shut behind Grissom, both Sara and Greg sat mutely for a minute or more, neither looking at the other.

"Want to grab some dinner?" Greg finally asked, standing and stretching before he began to gather up the beginnings of their case file.

"I think he meant we should probably take a break from each other."

Greg stopped what he was doing and turned to her. His expression was caught between amused and incredulous.

"Really?"

Sara just nodded, as if it should be obvious.

"I wasn't trying to start a fight with you," Greg said, quite sincerely. "Especially not in front of Grissom. I'm sorry."

"I know you weren't," Sara assured him. "And it takes two people to have an argument. It's been a long day for both of us. Long and frustrating."

"You forgot fruitless."

"Yes, that too."

"You know," Greg said after another, easier, silence, "I was thinking we could try the hospitals. See if there are any 911 calls for a woman in labor on the highway. A baby seat doesn't mean there's a baby, yet. Maybe she was on her way to the hospital and went into labor."

"That's a big maybe," Sara said, mulling it over. "But it's worth a shot. We can ask Mia to check for amniotic fluid in the blood. Still... it was a lot of blood."

"If it was a woman in labor, the mixed fluids would have made it appear as if there was more blood," Greg added hopefully. "Could get a happy ending on this one."

"We could."

Sara smiled, knowing how much a happy ending would mean to Greg. He never denied the evidence at hand, but seemed eternally optimistic that things would turn out for the best. Sara wasn't sure if that made her want to laugh or cry. Not for the first time she worried about what this job would do to him.

"So," Greg said, having finally finished organizing up the layout room, "are we on?"

"Sure," Sara agreed, getting up and moving with him out of the room and to the storage room where their files would be locked until they returned.

"How does sushi sound?" Greg asked as they headed for her car. His was still at his apartment, and even if it wasn't, Sara would never let him drive.

"Like we'd be waiting forever," Sara answered. "It's eight-thirty on a Saturday night. We should just grab something quick. Everywhere we go is going to be swamped."

"It's Saturday?" Greg asked, looking horrorstruck as he came to a complete halt just inside the garage.

"Yes. The day that follows Friday."

"Oh... that's why it kept ringing," Greg said through gritted teeth, taking out his phone and rapidly scrolling through his call log. "She's going to kill me."

"We don't have to go if you have other plans," Sara said, feeling suddenly dejected by the thought, even if, moments before, she hadn't thought going anywhere with Greg was the best of ideas.

"No," Greg said quickly, stopping to look up at her as he spoke. "Let's go. I'm starved. But, do you mind if I make a call on the way?"

"No," Sara said, after a pause. "Go ahead. She's your girlfriend. Call her."

"I'm not calling..." Greg said with a blush. "It's not... It's my mom. I was supposed to call her today so we could talk and of course I forgot. She's kind of going through a difficult time right now."

"Oh," Sara said simply. "Are you sure you don't want some privacy?"

"No, but I don't want to be rude."

"Call her," Sara said as she started the car.

Greg nodded firmly and pulled up her number in his contacts. Sara could hear it ringing faintly in the background and reached over to turn on the radio, finding what she hoped was the perfect volume to block out enough of the conversation and still allow Greg to participate in it.

"Hi, Mom," Greg said after a few moments of waiting. "Sorry I didn't call sooner. I just got away from the lab."

"I was starting to worry. I at least hope you're getting overtime for all the hours they make you put in at that place."

Greg let out a small laugh, and despite being unable to hear what had caused him to do so, Sara smiled along with him.

"How are things going?" he asked. "How are you?"

"How am I supposed to be?" she shot back at him. "The papers were filed yesterday."

"Have you got a lawyer yet?"

Sara caught the harsh laugh even above the din of the music, but kept her eyes fixed to the road.

"Mom, you need a lawyer. We've talked about this. You need someone to make sure you get a fair settlement."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm not qualified and I'm not getting involved."

"It's not like I'm asking you to represent me in court..."

"Mom, I wouldn't even know where to begin or what to look for..."

"Well what the hell did we even send you to college for?" she fired back at him.

"To study chemistry," Greg answered quietly, trying to fight the blush that was creeping up his neck as he turned and stared out the passenger side window.

"And a lot of good it's done," she returned bitterly. "You moved away from me to that cesspool of a city to work god-awful hours for a next-to-nothing salary. Why on earth you wouldn't just take the position we'd lined up for you..."

"Because I didn't want to work for Dad," Greg cut in quickly. "We've... I'm not talking about this again. Not right now. I just wanted to call and see how you were and make sure..."

"I've hired Marty Simmons."

"Good," Greg said, the word coming out like a clipped breath.

Sara chanced a glance in Greg's direction, but was unable to catch his attention.

"Your father wasn't happy to hear that," she added, with no small amount of satisfaction. "Have you talked to him lately?"

"A few nights ago."

"Did he mention me? Did he tell you what's been happening?"

"No. We don't talk about it. He knows how I feel and..." Greg trailed off, shaking his head despite the fact that there was no way his mother could see him.

"And?"

"And," Greg continued on reluctantly, "he doesn't press the issue."

"So you think I'm the one to blame, don't you?"

"Of course not."

"Then you should be supporting me," she said, her voice growing louder with each passing word. "I'm your mother."

"And he's still my father," Greg said, trying to get her to see reason.

"Do you even know what he did?"

"Mom, now is not the time," Greg said, squirming in his seat as Sara pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. "I'm on my dinner break right now and I don't have long. I really just wanted to say hello and..."

"Fine," she interrupted briskly, cutting him off and hanging up.

"Goodbye," Greg finished to no one as he shut the phone off and hazarded a look at Sara.

Sara turned off the car and the both sat in silence outside the small sushi shop they frequented together.

"Sorry about that," Greg said, holding up his phone briefly before putting it away.

"About what? I don't... you don't have to say anything..." Sara stammered at a momentary loss. "I wasn't listening."

Greg laughed at her.

"I wasn't."

"I appreciate that you were trying not to listen," Greg said as they got out of the car together and made their way up the small flight of steps and into the crowded restaurant. "But I know better than that. First, my mom talks way too loud. And second, you can't help yourself. It's what you do."

Sara pressed her lips together and gave him a nod. She really hadn't been trying to listen in, but her mind had already filled the gaps of conversation she didn't actually hear.

"Are you okay?" she asked as they took a seat at the counter.

"Mostly I'm just trying not to think about it."

"Well," Sara said, her eyes darting between the menu and Greg, "if you need someone to talk about it with..."

"Thanks, Sara," Greg said quickly, "but you don't want to hear me complaining. It's fine. Really."

"No, I mean it. I'm here for you."

Greg stopped and looked at her, quite seriously, before softly saying, "Thank you."

"So?" she asked after they'd ordered their food and drinks.

"You mean right now?" he asked, finally smiling again.

"Might as well."

"Okay, but... there's not much to say," Greg answered. "I really am okay with it. Lots of couples get divorced. I can't say I'm really surprised."

"Huh."

"What?" Greg asked.

"I guess I just always assumed you had this perfect family."

"Who has one of those?"

Sara nodded.

"The hardest part of this whole thing is that my mom keeps pushing me to take sides. It's like she's forgotten I'm an adult and there won't be a custody battle. But, I can't exactly blame her either. I mean my dad... while he's great at being a dad, he makes a pretty poor husband."

Sara didn't know what to say. Anything she could think of to say sounded like she was prying. And, as she'd learned today, Greg apparently kept his private life a lot more private than she'd ever given him credit for.

"I mean," Greg rattled on, always a big talker when he got on a roll, "this isn't even the first time it's happened. I knew eventually it would be one time too many. Usually these things blow over between them, but not without a really expensive gift and a vacation and a thousand promises, but..." Greg shrugged. "You really don't want to hear this."

"So why do you think this time was different?"

"Oh, I know why."

Sara raised her eyebrow at him and waited.

"This time his girlfriend got pregnant."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Pretense  
Author: SLynn  
Rating: T**  
**Pairing**: Greg/OFC shades of Greg/Sara  
**Spoilers**: Up to '4X4'/Season 5  
**Disclaimer:** Does anyone actually read this?

**Summary:** A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life. Set late Season 5.

**Notes:** I'm cheating a posting a chapter before I've finished a new one, but it's been awhile and I've got some stocked away so I thought I might as well do it to keep me, and hopefully everyone out there, still interested and reading. Thanks to Tripp3235 for beta'ing for me, as she always does. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

"You're eating again? You just got back from your dinner break, like, an hour ago."

Greg looked up at Sofia and shrugged, finishing the last bite of his donut before answering. "I was hungry. And it was the last one in the box. You can't leave one donut in the box. It gets lonely."

"You look awful."

"Don't spare my feelings," Greg laughed. "I only want the brutal truth."

"Hey, is that the same brutal truth you've been handing out to the techs?" Nick asked as he came into the room.

"I was an ass. I'm going to apologize. I just haven't made it there yet."

"You'd better," Nick said, his tone serious as he sat down next to Sofia at the table of the small and cluttered break room. "First, your evidence just takes too long to get processed. Then it's not tagged properly, so you'll end up filling out forms for hours after shift. Next thing you know they'll start telling you that they're unsure if what your asking falls into the scope of their job."

"Man, I miss that kind of absolute power," Greg sighed.

"Power is the root of all evil," Nick said.

"No, you're thinking of money," Sofia corrected.

"I miss the money, too," Greg added wistfully.

"But field work is so much more glamorous," Sofia said, smiling even.

"Very," Greg agreed. "I just spent the last forty minutes on the phone, being bounced from department to department at UMC. Finally, thinking I was a crank, they hung up on me. And now I've got to call St. Rose and every other hospital between here and Primm with nothing more descriptive than 'probably in labor' and 'bleeding profusely' and 'possibly female or... not'."

"This your abandoned bloody car case?" Nick asked, leaning in as he spoke and growing more attentive.

Greg nodded in reply.

"Are you sure the body wasn't dumped nearby?" asked Sofia.

"The only blood we saw was inside the car. We did a cursory sweep, but there were no drag marks, nothing indicating that anyone was disposed of on scene."

"They were just getting rid of the car," Nick said, nodding now in agreement as the picture became a bit clearer in his own mind.

"Then they had an accomplice," Sofia remarked. "Unless they walked home."

"Which doesn't seem likely," Greg finished.

"So why are you calling hospitals again?" asked Nick.

"Because it was my theory that our victim was on the way to the hospital to give birth. We found an empty infant seat in the car. So, I was thinking, that she might have went into labor and then got so far along that the driver pulled over and called an ambulance to take them the rest of the way."

Nick and Sofia both stared.

"I didn't say it was a good theory," Greg admitted, "but it is possible."

"No, it's not," Sara said, coming quickly into the room and joining them where they sat. "Mia just gave me the results. Our victim is female, but there was no amniotic fluid mixed in with the blood, so she was not in labor."

Greg nodded, having expected as much despite his own efforts.

"At least now you can stop making phone calls," Nick added.

"I also asked nicely and Mandy ran the prints," Sara continued.

"And?" Greg prodded, seeing in her eyes that despite her pause, she hadn't finished.

"Danielle Thomsen. Twenty-two. She's been arrested twice for prostitution. No convictions."

Sara opened the file she'd been carrying and handed Greg the printout. In it was a brief rundown of her latest arrest, a general description, and her mug shot. She was an attractive woman with short blonde hair and a pretty, round face.

"I take it she wasn't working on the corner," Greg said, handing the sheet across the table for Sofia and Nick to view.

"No. Twice they picked her up on party raids. Strictly escort," Sara explained. "Her last known address was in Pahrump. Looks like she moved not long after her last run in, about two years ago."

"So she's been clean ever since?" Greg asked.

"You could say that," Sara answered.

Sofia and Nick both nodded in understanding, but Greg sat confused by the unspoken intelligence that passed between them.

"What?" he finally had to ask, unable to bear it any longer.

"She moved to where it was legal," Nick provided.

Greg's eyes narrowed momentarily, and then with a shrug he let it go. There was not point arguing against the assumption.

"Brass is getting in touch with the local police department and they're going to swing by her last known address," Sara continued. "We should know more tomorrow."

"And until then we do what exactly?" asked Greg.

"We wait," Sara answered. "It's the only thing we can do without a body."

"Or, you could come with me on my next case," Sofia said, smiling too sweetly.

Nick sat back and laughed.

"How bad is it?" Greg grimaced as he placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin on top of his interwoven hands.

"It's not bad..."

"Grissom said the word 'sewer'," Nick interrupted, causing Sara to chuckle.

"Damn it, Nick," Sofia said, pushing him playfully off balance. "Now I'm going to have to go alone."

"No," Greg returned. "I'll go. Honestly, my day can't get much worse. A sewer might even improve it. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're ready."

"Okay," Greg said, getting to his feet. "Just give me, like, ten minutes. I'll meet you in the garage."

"Hey, Greg," Sara said, stopping him in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Find me when you get back and we'll go over the car again. It was towed to the garage. Maybe we missed something earlier."

"Got it."

"Thank you," Sofia called out as Greg moved away from them and off towards the locker room.

"Wow," Nick said, once Greg was completely out of sight. "I've got to hand it to you both. You have got him completely whipped. You ask it and he does it. Without question."

"Ha, ha," Sara said, humorlessly.

"He's not whipped," Sofia argued. "He's helpful."

"Does he or does he not carry your case for you on scene?" Nick asked, looking at Sara for confirmation.

"Yes," both women answered, and then with a start, exchanged half-puzzled glances.

"That's not whipped," Sofia continued to argue. "That's called being a gentleman. You should look into it."

"Did Sofia just call you out?" Warrick asked, smiling as he came into the break room and sat down in the chair Greg had just occupied.

"We have got to get Sanders off of the graveyard shift," Nick said to Warrick, ignoring the looks he was receiving from the two woman still at the table with them. "They're going to ruin him and they're completely abusing their power."

"Which is, of course, the root of all evil," Sofia smirked.

Nick smiled back at her and shook his head.

"Isn't that money?" Sara asked, not getting the joke.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Sofia confirmed, still smirking and suppressing a laugh.

"Ruin," Nick repeated, his eyes back on Warrick.

"Nothing we can do about it," Warrick said evenly. "He knew what he was getting into when he signed up."

"I'd love to stay and chat," Sofia said as she pushed her chair back from the table, "but I've got a level one to ruin... I mean, a case to get to. You guys enjoy the rest of the night. Sara, I'll see you later."

Sofia smiled and exited, heading off towards the garage to where Greg was undoubtedly already waiting for her. For a few minutes Sara sat and listened as Nick and Warrick exchanged small talk about their cases and lives, but without taking in what they were saying. She was too busy puzzling over the conversation she'd had with Greg that very morning and how it related to what Nick had just been joking about.

"What did you mean by 'ruining'?" Sara asked abruptly, interrupting Nick mid-sentence.

"What?" Nick asked, confused by her sudden seriousness.

"When you said we were 'ruining', Greg. What did you mean by that?"

"I was joking," Nick answered, laughing uncomfortably as Warrick slid back in his chair to watch the exchange. "I didn't really mean anything by it. Why? Everything okay? He hasn't lost interest already, has he?"

"Hardly."

"Good for him," Warrick said, sounding pleased.

"I knew he was taking it seriously," Nick added.

"Actually," Sara began with some hesitation, "that might be the problem. I think he might be over doing it."

"Over doing it?" Nick asked, confused as to how, of all people, Sara could think Greg was overdoing anything.

"He's putting in a lot of extra hours."

"Aren't we all?" Nick returned, still not getting it.

"I practically live out of my locker," Warrick put in.

"He's been volunteering to be on call."

"So do you," Nick said.

"And so does Grissom," Warrick added. "And Sofia. All of graveyard does. Swings, too. None of us have our priorities straight."

"Yeah, well, I think it's starting to get to him. And the rest of his life," Sara said, reluctantly.

"What," Warrick asked, "is Kristen mad at him again?"

"He must have really gotten in trouble for missing their date last night," Nick said, unable to keep from laughing a little.

"You've...you've both met her?" Sara questioned, sitting back as a whole new kind of confusion swept over her face. She hadn't wanted to come right out and say that Greg had a girlfriend. She'd assumed that if she hadn't known about Kristen, that Greg hadn't wanted anyone to know about her.

"Yeah," Warrick confirmed.

"Sure," Nick said. "Haven't you?"

"Of course I have," Sara said as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "So, when did you meet her?"

"I don't know," Nick said, turning his eyes to Warrick who shrugged in return. "They've been together for awhile now. I guess at Thanksgiving. We all met up at Catherine's place. She was there, right?"

"Yes," Warrick nodded in agreement. "She was. Weren't you there, Sara?"

"No," she said with a frown. "I was working that night."

"That's right," Warrick recalled. "You missed all the parties this year. Should we be having this conversation about you?"

"I've always been this way," Sara said evenly. "Greg hasn't."

"Maybe you're a bad influence then," Nick said with a laugh.

"Maybe," Sara said, seriously considering his words.

"Come on now, Sara," Warrick said, leaning in towards her. "You've done a great job training Greg."

"Despite the office pool that gave me three weeks, tops, before I left him on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere?"

"To be fair, the odds were better that Greg would walk out one night and never come back," Nick put in helpfully.

Sara shook her head and smiled before admitting that she didn't do it alone.

"I'm sure it hasn't been easy," Nick said, nearly laughing.

"That's not what I meant," Sara objected. "It really hasn't been hard. Greg can be serious, and he always stays focused, jokes aside. He really loves being in the field and is invested in this. And we get along..." Sara paused, unsure of the right word to describe their dynamic. "Fine. We get along just fine."

"So what was the problem again?" Warrick asked, clearly amused at her rambling.

"I just don't want him to think that he has to do everything my way," Sara sighed.

"Really?" Nick asked skeptically. "Because you never let me do things my way when we worked together."

"Career wise," Sara clarified. "I just meant that he doesn't have to do things my way regarding his career."

"Then tell him that," Nick said.

"I've tried. We just talked this morning about it and nothing. He's really determined to be as good as he can and, while I don't want to discourage him, I don't want him to take it too far. He doesn't have to make the same choices I've made to be good at what he does."

Nick and Warrick exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke.

"I... I don't know," Sara stammered. "You know, forget I said anything. He knows what he's doing. I probably shouldn't be interfering."

"Try again," Nick said plainly. "Maybe you caught him at a bad time earlier, but I know if you tell it to him like that, he'll listen to you. He always has before."

"Always," Warrick echoed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Pretense  
Author: SLynn  
Rating: T**  
**Pairing**: Greg/OFC shades of Greg/Sara  
**Spoilers**: Up to '4X4'/Season 5  
**Disclaimer:** Does anyone actually read this?

**Summary:** A case hits too close to home for Greg, causing turmoil in his life. Set late Season 5.

**Notes:** Thank you Tripp3235 for still beta'ing after all this time! Also, Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

"You started without me," Greg said, sounding slightly disappointed as he stood in the doorway of the garage. It was currently the only car impounded at the lab, so Sara had had the place to herself. As usual, she was working in near darkness, preferring to spotlight any evidence she might find with her flashlight, which in turn allowed her to concentrate clearer on a much smaller area.

"Did you change?" Sara asked, ignoring his complaint, as she peeked out from behind the hood of the trunk and gave Greg a once over.

"And showered," he added, coming inside and taking a spot beside her.

Sara nodded, tightlipped, as she turned her gaze back to the job at hand.

"It was really bad," Greg continued. "Like, I may have picked up the plague, bad."

"That's great," Sara said, not even sparing another glance his way, and absentmindedly shutting the trunk before quickly striding around to the driver's seat.

"Yes, the plague is always great," Greg said, rolling his eyes as he followed her. "Ask anyone from the fourteenth century."

Sara nodded, oblivious to his words, as she continued to stare into the car.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Doesn't this car seem..." she began, struggling for a moment to find the exact word, and finally landing on, "clean?"

"I guess," came the answer.

Greg walked around to the passenger's door, and peered into the window for a better view of the floorboards.

"Coveralls," Sara said without looking up, just as Greg's hand had reached for the handle.

"Right," Greg said, fighting back a yawn, as he turned and headed for the small locker where they were stored. "My bad."

"How did your case go?" Sara asked as she slid behind the driver's wheel, still searching in hopes of finding what she instinctively knew was missing, but unsure what that something could be.

"You know," Greg shrugged as he struggled into his suit. "Typical. Dead guy in a drainage ditch. Might be a suicide. It's Sofia's case, actually, so I probably won't do much more with it."

"Other than the hard part," Sara pointed out, finally smiling at him.

"Damn it," Greg snapped, not hearing her response and instead looking down at the newly busted zipper in his hand.

"Just toss it out," Sara said.

"I hate these things," he returned, nearly falling over as he pulled one leg out and momentarily lost his balance.

Sara tried not to laugh, as it was clearly not amusing to Greg, but it was hard not too. She found herself gradually watching him as he tossed the offending coveralls into the trash and retrieved a new pair, sitting down this time to kick off his shoes first.

"If you'd done that the first time," Sara chided, letting her words trail off gently as she could sense his mood turning sour.

"The only time a person should have to take off their shoes during the day is when they get home," Greg said, standing as he pulled the suit up to his waist and over his pants, before stopping and taking off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked, her voice louder than she intended and sharp with surprise.

"I'm getting dressed," Greg said, moving quickly to pull down his t-shirt which had accidentally ridden up. "You know, like you told me to."

"Yes, well... hurry," Sara said, looking down to hide her embarrassment.

Greg turned his back to her and finished in silence and, as quickly as he could, got into the car's passenger seat.

"This is familiar," Greg remarked.

Sara shot him an inquisitive look.

"We're not even going anywhere, but still, you get to drive," he said, pointing to the steering wheel. "You know I have a license, right?"

"And four speeding tickets in the past year," Sara added.

"I am a good driver."

"We can argue about this later," Sara said, ending it. "We haven't got time now. We're heading out to Pahrump after shift change and -"

"Wait, what?" Greg interrupted. "When did that happen?"

"While you were out obtaining the plague. The local sheriff wants us there when they go to the house and it may be a crime scene."

"Okay," Greg said, uneasily shifting in his seat.

"If you can't make it, it's not a big deal. I can go alone."

"Of course I can make it," he said.

"If you have other plans or... or someone... somewhere else to be, Greg, it's fine. Really."

"And I really don't, so, I'm going with you."

"All right," Sara said with a sigh. No one could say she didn't try, and she couldn't very well stop him from going or force him not to work. "So, the car."

"Is clean, yes."

"Am I imaging that?" Sara asked, quite serious.

"I... I don't think so," Greg returned, taking a moment to really absorb the scene. "There's no wrappers, no crumbs. No... nothing. It's like in perfect condition. But it is new. This is a current model. Could she have just bought it?"

"Check the glove box," Sara said.

Greg popped it open, revealing only the owner's manual and nothing else.

"A neat freak?" Greg suggested.

"Or it wasn't hers. A rental?"

"Most rentals are not this nice. Unless you want to rent a Lamborghini or something on the Strip."

Greg turned sideways and looked into the backseat where the car seat still remained secured.

"That's an infant setup," he said, more thinking out loud than commenting in general. "It's rear facing. Every kid in the world makes some kind of mess... but this one."

Sara turned and looked as well, nodding in silent agreement.

"It's been used," Greg said, pointing out a stain that looked like it could have been milk or formula. "Probably cleaned, but we could still take a look. Pull it apart, see if there's anything more."

"We could do that," Sara said, turning at nearly the same time as Greg did, only to pause midway. At once their eyes met, locking them into place just inches apart.

"Should I take some more pictures?" Greg asked after a beat, not shying away and unconsciously dropping his voice to a near whisper.

Sara stared for a moment before nodding and backing away slightly.

"Okay," Greg said, his voice barely registering as he fell back into his seat.

Sara copied his movement, and both of them sat in silence staring out the windshield as if in a daze.

Moving first, Sara began to reach out towards him, only to be startled back again as Greg pushed open the door, and in an unusually loud voice called out, without looking her way, "I'll get started."

Sara nodded and watched him race across the room to where the camera equipment was stored. Letting out a deep breath, she shook her head as if to clear it and felt a growing sense of relief. About what, she wasn't clear. It had been a long day, perhaps she was just tired.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Sara said, getting out of the car just as Greg got back in to begin taking his photos. "Do you want one?"

"Sure," Greg said, not looking up from the camera he'd just grabbed hold of.

Greg waited until for nearly a full minute after the door shut before daring to look up. Sighing, he shook his head as he made it back over to the car and began to snap off several more photos to document the position of the car seat before removing it.

He knew he should be focusing more on what he was doing, but he couldn't. That all too familiar knot in his stomach had returned, and try as he may, Greg couldn't shake it. Ever since Sara had shown up at his apartment that morning, things had just felt off between them. They hadn't been able to fall in their comfortable, and well worn, groove at all, and even though Greg had his suspicions, he wasn't entirely sure what had changed. The whole day had been filled with drawn out pauses and too harsh conversations. It made him moody and nervous, and he hated it.

Pushing it momentarily from his mind, Greg thought less about himself and more about the child that the chair before him belonged to. Before he realized it a full hour had passed, yielding nothing new except a cup of stale coffee.

"There's nothing here," Greg sighed, having completely dismantled the seat twice in his search that only turned up some spare crumbs.

"I've got nothing here, too," Sara added, having been digging through the interior seats of the car.

"Danielle Thomsen may have been killed in this car, but it wasn't hers," Greg decided, stripping off his gloves and leaning back against the workbench. "It's too sterile. Of course, that's assuming the baby is hers. We don't even know if she had one."

"She did," Sara said, as if she'd just remembered. "While you were out with Sofia, I did some more research. She gave birth here in Vegas six months ago to a baby boy named James."

"So, we have a bloody car that doesn't look used," Greg began recapping. "A probably dead or missing former call girl. And a possibly dead or missing baby."

Sara sighed, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Our only prints are Danielle's. We won't know anything more about the car until the DMV decides we're a priority."

"Archie's helping," Sara interrupted. "He's got a friend there, and in case that doesn't work, he's checking the plate for tickets on file at the station."

"That's great, but is that it? Is that really all we have? Because, we don't even have a crime yet, just the appearance of one."

"This doesn't make sense," Sara agreed. "They cleaned the car and then committed the crime? Why not leave the body in the car? Why leave the car in such an obvious location?"

"Maybe she really was just very neat," Greg offered.

"This is beyond normal standards of neat."

"Compulsive?" Greg suggested.

"Let's not get caught up in this now," Sara sighed. "What have we got that's solid?"

"Victim's fingerprints," Greg began to rattle off. "Some hair and fiber, likely from the victim with Mia now. And a lot of dried up blood in a very clean car."

"And?"

"That's it," Greg finished. "But..."

"What?" Sara prodded, seeing him hesitate as he turned back towards the car.

"That much blood... do you think she was stabbed or shot?"

"There's no cast off, so, she probably wasn't stabbed."

"But there's no splatter either," Greg opinioned. "There's no indication that anything happened here."

"Except for the blood."

"Exactly," Greg agreed.

"Let's take a break," Sara said, rubbing her hands over her eyes in sheer frustration.

"Okay," Greg sighed, moving to put back all the equipment he'd taken out. "Want to grab breakfast? My treat."

"Does that mean you're picking the place?"

Greg laughed.

"Because I'll buy if I get to pick the place," she continued.

"I'm not picky," he said, "as long as they have pancakes. With lots of syrup. I need sugar."

"You have the worst eating habits of anyone I know."

"And bacon. Doesn't bacon sound good right now?" Greg teased, knowing full well that bacon never sounded good to Sara who was a strict vegetarian.

"Disgusting," Sara muttered, helping him finish up and carefully turning her back as they both stripped out of their coveralls.

"I'm going to have syrup with my bacon."

Sara shot him a dirty look, but couldn't make it last. In the end, she had to laugh.


End file.
